


Light Up

by ilsafausts (phoenix_cry)



Category: Mission: Impossible, Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team Feels, Team as Family, the guys have perfect timing, the team has some fun, without saving the world for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29266518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_cry/pseuds/ilsafausts
Summary: Ethan invites Ilsa over for dinner because he "prepared too much food". What he wasn't counting on was the guys inviting themselves as well.
Relationships: Ilsa Faust/Ethan Hunt
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	Light Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shutupmulder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupmulder/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, VICTORIA! It's my Mission Impossible BFFs birthday tomorrow, so please send her some love (@shutupmulder).  
> Thanks for always listening to my crazy headcanons and flailing with me over Rebecca and Ilsa/Ethan. You make the time until the next movie more bearable. Love you!

Ilsa had just stepped through her apartment door when she heard her phone ding in her jacket pocket, alerting her to a new text message. She set her grocery bags onto her kitchen counter and fished her phone out of her pocket, an involuntary smile appearing on her face as soon as she saw who had sent it.

_ Wanna come over and have dinner with me? I made too much food. - _ Ethan

Attached was a picture of his stove and a huge pot of steaming pasta, fresh vegetables, and a pan of bubbling sauce.

Ilsa laughed to herself. She snapped a quick picture of her groceries and leaned back against the counter to reply. 

_ Got the groceries, but no motivation to actually prepare anything. I’ll bring the wine. Be there in ten.  _ \- Ilsa

_ See you then! _ \- Ethan

Still smiling, Ilsa quickly stowed away her groceries, grabbed a bottle of red wine and her keys, and was back out the door a few moments later.

It was half-past seven on a Friday evening and most people were already at home, so the streets were relatively empty. With traffic it took Ilsa only about ten minutes to reach Ethan’s place, tonight it took her even less.

Parking her bike in the guest spot of his building’s garage, she headed to the elevator and pressed the button for level four. A minute later, she emerged on his floor and headed for his door, which already opened before she had even finished knocking.

Ilsa smirked, as Ethan’s face appeared. “Eager to see me?” 

Ethan smirked right back. “Food’s getting cold, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” 

Ethan’s smirk grew even wider at her skepticism, but he wordlessly stepped aside, jokingly bowed, and waved her in. Ilsa snorted but followed his invitation without further comment.

“Mhh, smells delicious!” She praised, as she stepped even further into his apartment.

“Thanks, it’s a recipe my grandma used to make.”

“Can’t wait to taste it.”

“Then let’s not wait any longer,” he said, and by the look he gave her, Ilsa  _ knew _ he wasn’t just talking about the food. She swallowed, for once not knowing what to say. Ethan seemed to sense her dilemma and gave her another smile, returning his attention to their dinner. Heading back to the stove, he busied himself with filling their plates. 

Heart hammering in her chest, she stepped beside him, her shoulder deliberately brushing against his, reassuring him that they were on the same page. They shared another long look and a smile before Ilsa opened a drawer and fished out the bottle opener she knew to be hiding in there. Stepping back to the table, she took care of the bottle of wine; opening it and setting it aside to allow it to breathe for a few minutes. 

They eventually settled down to eat, the food tasting as delicious as Ilsa had expected. Their conversation was flowing smoothly as ever, with no trace of awkwardness or tension left behind. 

After dinner, they made quick work of the dirty dishes, working as in synch doing dishes as they did while saving the world. They laughed and joked, and before they knew it the kitchen was spotless. 

Getting their glasses, they relocated to Ethan’s couch, where they got comfortable. Ilsa kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet under her, her body naturally turning to face Ethan. 

Ethan, for his part, had elected his couch table as a resting place for his sock-clad feet, relaxed and happy in his guest’s presence. 

Laughter echoed throughout the apartment, as they remembered an incident a few months ago.

“Benji was so proud that he got that gadget ‘working’,” Ethan chuckled, using air quotes to emphasize his sarcasm. “Never mind the fact that it literally exploded two minutes later.”

Ilsa nodded, biting her lower lip to keep from giggling. “We were lucky nobody lost an eye. Oh my goodness, his face was priceless. Like a scared puppy, peeking around that desk corner.”

“You know,” Ethan said good-naturedly, “I actually have a scar from that day.”

“You do?” Ilsa gasped, her eyes automatically tracking along his form, as if she could spot said scar when she hadn’t before. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been  _ looking _ .

Ethan nodded and jutted out his chin, turning his head slightly to give her a better view. 

Ilsa scooted closer, her hand automatically reaching up to gently tilt his head further towards the light emanating from the standing lamp beside the couch. Her thumb absentmindedly grazed along the barely-visible scar on his jaw, hardly bigger than the nail of her pinky finger. 

She hummed quietly, peeking up towards his eyes, a mischievous glint in her own eyes. “Poor you,” she murmured and leaned forward, her nose almost brushing along his jaw. “Here, let me kiss it better.”

Ethan stopped breathing.

A moment later, her lips brushed along the scar, a barely-there touch that nonetheless managed to burn itself into Ethan’s skin. He shuddered involuntarily, his hand falling onto her thigh, trembling. 

Heat pooled in Ilsa’s belly in response to his reaction; so very unexpected, yet so very welcome. 

On a whim, Ilsa allowed her lips to travel up his jaw, towards his ear, and then down his neck, before she leaned back slightly to check his reaction once more. His eyes were closed, his breathing more ragged than it had been a minute ago, but then his eyes opened, and the blazing heat in them as they locked onto her eyes left her breathless.

He swayed towards her, closing the minimal gap between them, letting his forehead rest against hers, his eyes never leaving hers. 

Meanwhile, his hands had settled on her hips, thumbs drawing absentminded patterns on her hip bones. Ilsa’s own hands had gravitated towards his chest, and further upwards, one settling on his shoulder, while the other continued on towards his neck. Her fingers played with the short hair at the base of his head, their breathing mingling in the small space between them. 

“Ilsa,” Ethan rumbled, and Ilsa hummed in reply, not managing to form actual words if her life depended on it. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he announced, voice raspy. “If you don’t want me to, please tell me.”

Ilsa licked her lips, her hand cupping his neck and pulling him impossibly closer still. “You better,” she whispered, her breath feathering over his lips and evoking another shudder down his spine. 

He swallowed heavily and leaned forward, his eyes fluttering shut. His lips were so close, Ilsa could almost taste him. 

She held her breath, her eyes closing, willing him to bridge the last millimeter between them.

The loud knock on his door made them jerk apart instead, adrenaline taking over where seconds ago desire had been burning through their veins. 

“Jesus  _ fuck _ ,” Ilsa cursed under her breath, her hand gripping the back of his couch in a death grip, her body desperately trying to handle the sudden mood change. 

“I’ll-” Ethan had to clear his throat before he had any luck speaking. “I’ll check who it is and get rid of them. Hold...hold that thought.” He gave her a quick grin, before prying his own hands from her body, rather reluctantly. 

Ilsa huffed a laugh, a shaky hand pressing against her face in an effort to cool her burning skin. She let it sink into her lap in resignation as Ethan opened the door and a chorus of “Surprise!” filtered into the apartment.

Ilsa sighed, resigned to the fact that she would be holding onto that thought for longer than just the next few minutes.

“We had a feeling you’d be home!” Brandt’s voice said, followed by Luther’s deeper timbre. “There’s a game on! We brought beer.”

“And snacks!” Benji. 

It appeared as if the whole gang was here, and Ilsa had never been unhappier to see them than she was right this moment. 

Judging by the slightly desperate look Ethan shot her as he stepped back into the room, he was feeling the same way. 

The others followed a moment later, each of them stopping in their tracks as they spotted her on the couch.

“Ilsa! We tried calling you, but you didn’t pick up.” Benji said, sounding extraordinarily guilty, most likely about not having invited her as well, for this spontaneous get-together. 

“It’s probably still on silent,” she guessed, not at all interested in finding out if she was right or not. 

“Right. Well, you’re here, that’s all that counts!” He said, but still shooting her a slightly suspicious look. “Why  _ are _ you here?”

“I had too much food and needed help eating it.” Ethan simply said, his left shoulder rising in a half-hearted shrug.

The guys gave him a look. 

“Uh-huh,” Luther said, his knowing gaze flickering between Ilsa and Ethan, and Ilsa suppressed a groan of despair.

Next thing she knew, the guys were dropping their snacks and drinks onto the table in front of her and made themselves comfortable in order to watch the aforementioned game. 

Which game specifically, Ilsa had no idea, and even thirty minutes later, after Ethan had found himself on the only empty chair left, halfway across the room from her, her brain still hadn’t registered what they were watching. It was way too busy with replaying the  _ moment _ they had before they had been so very rudely interrupted.

Eyes staring blindly at the screen, where she watched small figures running around and occasionally tackling each other - football then, her mind supplied, the American version - she occasionally sipped on her wine, just for something to do. 

Ethan was doing his utmost to seem interested in the game, but she could feel his eyes burning into her from time to time. Which really wasn’t helping her focus on the game at all. 

Eventually, Luther, who had claimed the spot on the couch beside her half an hour earlier, gently nudged her shoulder and lowered his voice, so that the others wouldn’t hear. “You okay, kiddo? You seem...distracted tonight.” 

A genuine smile formed on her lips at his concern. “I’m fine, don’t worry. Just...quite a bit on my mind.” 

“You wanna talk about it?”

Ilsa shook her head slightly and squeezed his forearm, letting him know that she appreciated the thought. “Thanks, but...I need to mull this over on my own.”

Luther nodded in understanding, but his eyebrow raised slightly, and Ilsa bit her lip, bracing herself for what came next. “If it’s about Ethan, however,” he started and Ilsa’s breath stalled in her chest. “Don’t worry too much about him. He’s easier to handle than you might think.” He huffed a quiet laugh. “But I have a feeling you already know that.”

Ilsa tilted her head, gave him a smile, and refrained from answering out loud. Luther patted her leg and nodded, turning back to the game on the television. “You got this,” he said, and that was that. 

After that, it was easier for her to concentrate on her surroundings, on the jokes and whoops and cheers around her, whenever their favored team scored a point. Silently, she thanked Luther again for pulling her out of her head. It was an unexpected evening with the people most dear to her, and she should damn well enjoy it. 

There was time for everything else later. 

xoxoxo

Much later, around one am in the morning, after a fun evening spent with friends, they had finished cleaning up the mess they had made of the living room and were getting ready to call it a night.

The guys were already busy collecting their jackets from the wardrobe and Ilsa had just put the last dirty glass in the dishwasher. Making a detour by the couch to collect her shoes, she eventually joined the others by the door. 

“This was fun, we should do that again sometime,” Brandt was saying as she finished slipping into her boots. “Even if two of us seemed to be distracted for most of the evening.”

Ilsa almost choked on her own saliva while she straightened back up, and came face to face with a smirking William Brandt. She raised an eyebrow at him and decided to play it cool. “Yes, I had a feeling you were not as into the game, as usual, William. The curses you usually throw at the screen were mostly missing tonight.”

Luther laughed out loud. “She got you there, buddy.”

The guys filtered out the door, Brandt all the while complaining about mean British agents. Ilsa lingered in the doorway, not quite ready to leave yet, but also knowing that staying behind would let everyone know exactly what was going on. So instead of blowing their cover, so to speak, she sighed quietly, gave Ethan a smile and hidden squeeze of his hand, and followed behind her teammates. 

Her bike was parked down the street a little way, in the opposite direction of where the guys had parked their cars, so they quietly said their goodbyes, mindful not to disturb the neighbors. 

Ilsa had only just made it to her bike when she heard the cars further up the street starting. A moment later, they all passed by her, each of the drivers giving her a wave. Ilsa laughed quietly and waved back, about to swing her leg over her bike, when she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. Brow furrowed, she pulled it out and smiled even wider when she saw the caller ID. 

Bringing it to her ear, she answered. “Miss me already?”

“Yes,” he simply said. “Come back. Stay.” His voice, his words, washed over her and made her tremble, and before she knew it, she was retracing her steps up the street. 

“Ilsa?” He asked, his voice suddenly unsure, and she realized that she still hadn’t answered him. 

“I’m almost there,” she said, breathless, and a moment later, stepped back into his driveway, just as his door opened again and he was there to welcome her home.

Four more steps and she was in his arms; the door swinging shut behind her and his lips descending on hers. 

Her hands reached up to grasp his neck, keeping his mouth close, yet still not close enough. 

Then they were moving - moving backward until Ilsa’s back was pressed against the wall and Ethan was pressed against her front and  _ oh yes _ . 

“How about,” she murmured into his hair, when he tore his mouth away from hers for a moment to latch onto her neck instead, “we take this somewhere more comfortable? Not that I, ungh, don’t appreciate a good make-out session against a wall, mind you.” 

He mumbled something against her neck she couldn’t make out, because his lips were still busy doing fabulous things to her nerve endings. Even if his words hadn’t been muffled against her skin, she would have had trouble concentrating anyway. 

“What?” She gasped, just as his tongue swiped across a particularly sensitive spot. 

With a reluctant groan, he resurfaced from his exploration of her neck and searched her eyes for answers to questions he hadn’t asked yet. 

“I do have a bed,” he started, hesitantly, “but if you’d rather we take this to the couch, that’s also fine by me.”

He was giving her a way out, asking in his own way if she was ready to take this all the way. She gave him a gentle smile and reached up to caress his brow. 

“The bed sounds heavenly,” she said, her eyes acknowledging his offer, but letting him know that she was more than ready to take their relationship further.

The smile on his face made his eyes crinkle adorably. “Well then, m’lady. If I may?” He said and stepped back, offering her his arm gallantly. 

Ilsa laughed, her hand securely settling into the crook of his arm. “You may,” she answered, smiling, and allowed him to lead her towards his bedroom.

xoxoxo

The sun had long since risen when Ilsa woke the next morning, tickling her nose. In protest, she burrowed her face back into the pillow and groaned quietly. 

A soft chuckle alerted her to the fact that her bed companion was awake as well.

“‘S not funny,” she grumbled, causing the chuckle to deepen. 

“It kind of is,” the voice said, and Ilsa turned her face slightly to allow one eye to glare at him. “You’re adorable when you’re grumpy,” Ethan stated.

Instead of glaring at him some more, she allowed herself to take in his appearance, a grin forming on her face. His eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion, her sudden mood change surprising him.

“What?” He asked, clearly thrown for a loop.

Her hand reached up and ruffled his hair in answer. “Talk about adorable,” she said, still grinning. His hair was sticking every which way, a few strands of hair flopping down onto his forehead while the rest tried to reach for the sky. 

It was his turn to groan and he gently swatted her hand away. “I distinctly remember most of this mess being your fault, you know.”

She gave him an innocent look, rolled onto her side, and propped herself up on her elbow; the blanket only half-heartedly clinging to her body. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, baby.”

“Allow me to refresh your memory, darling.”

Ilsa’s grin deepened. “Please do.”

The sun was all but forgotten as Ethan’s mouth did wonders to her body and her fingers once more held onto him, messing his hair up even further.

Neither of them noticed. 

  
~fin

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, since it's harder and harder to come up with ideas for new stories, I'd really appreciate if you could give me some prompts. So if there's anything you always wanted to read about these idiots, let me know? (Maybe as long as it doesn't involve pregnancy and character death...) 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


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